Redwing
by Zerrat
Summary: What if styled story. After the events at the Central Art Museum, a character is shot in the back and dies that day. Ten years later, the group of friends are still struggling to move on.
1. Crimson Bullet

**Redwing**

**By Darksbane

* * *

**

**Disclaimer: **_DNAngel _is copyright material of Yukiru Sugisaki-Kadokawa. I'm not him, so I don't own _DNAngel. _

**A/N: **A what-if, alternate-universe styled fic continuing the DNAngel universe. After sealing the Black Wings at the Central Art Museum, Daisuke is shot in the back by a barely-alive Mr. Hiwatari before the eyes of his friends. Ten years later, another phantom thief using the name of 'Dark' has emerged – but since Daisuke died that day, Dark's return is a far-away impossibility. But all is not as it seems… Based after the TV series. Pairings are canon-related. Enjoy, guys.

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**Verse One – Crimson Bullet**

The smoke was clearing now. Satoshi Hiwatari leant heavily on the boy assisting him from the wreckage of the Central Art Museum, knowing that he was safe from harm so long as he remained near the boy. Daisuke Niwa would sooner cut off his arm than allow harm to come to – well – _anyone. _That had been one of the things Satoshi Hiwatari had learned about Niwa over the long months of chasing after him because of his association with the phantom thief Dark Mousy. He had been so sure he would have been able to do what it took to put Dark behind bars where he belonged, yet as he grew to understand Niwa, that desire to see justice had lessened.

Niwa was panting as he supported Satoshi's weight, but he seemed determined to get out of the danger zone. Satoshi hid a small smile, thanking him silently for all he'd done for him. But he could almost predict what would soon be coming out of the considerate boy's mouth next –

"Are you alright… Hiwatari?" Niwa asked softly. Satoshi could have laughed. That was Niwa for you. Always concerned with everyone else but himself. Satoshi had grown up in a world where he had to fight tooth and nail – not only within the police force, but for his own mind and body. The concern was touching, in a way.

"Yeah," he answered quietly, the smoke almost all swept away by the morning breeze filtering through the jacket Niwa had lent him. He glanced up, blinking as he saw the sunrise. It was… beautiful. He'd seen so many of them, and so many artworks… but they'd never compared. He took a stunned breath. "It's brilliant, isn't it?"

Niwa looked up also; his eyes were alight with wonder as the amazing colours dazzled him. "Yeah! It is…"

Satoshi nodded, his eyes fixed on the sight. "But it's a different kind of brilliant than before."

It truly was. All the others he'd seen… they'd all been so dull by comparison. All the artworks he'd ever seen seemed gaudy and uncouth compared with this… wonder. Was it because he was truly living life again? Was it because his life was his own? Or was it because… he was here. With his closest friend, who had proved his loyalty time and time again. It seemed so much better.

"Hnh?" Niwa stopped at the edge of the cliff. Satoshi released his shoulder, but stumbled as the weight was too much on his weak legs for an instant. Niwa's hand shot out to grab his shoulder, but Satoshi waved him off with a sigh.

"I'm alright." He straightened in the jacket, feeling the tattered edges of the sleeves trace against his skin. It was a good coat – but more than that, it was a sign of Niwa's friendship to him. Given in the never-ending kindness of Niwa's heart, it meant more to him than a simple article of clothing.

He smirked slightly as he turned to the red-haired boy. "Niwa, can I have this coat?"

Niwa's eyebrows raised. "Huh? Yeah, sure."

Satoshi nodded, and looked out to the sunrise again. The sun was climbing higher now, the colours were less brilliant. But somehow… it looked so much more lovely than before.

"I guess.." he started in a quiet voice, not sure what he was going to say. Then he hit on gold. "I guess I'll try to enjoy my life… since I have it."

"Yeah." Niwa smiled at him then – a smile full of relief, of happiness, of joy at not losing a friend…

Satoshi watched him for a while, and then told him seriously, "You're truly an amazing person, Daisuke Niwa. I am glad to have met you."

"_Niwa!" _Someone called out to the red-haired boy, someone calling at the top of their lungs. Satoshi smiled. He was happy that Niwa had found somebody – that somebody he'd described when Satoshi had been so bent on destroying himself. Someone who was happy just because they were _there…_

"Niwa!" Riku Harada was running towards them, looking exhausted but exhilarated all the same. Risa Harada followed her a few paces behind, her dark hair whipping back in the wind. The twins both looked as tired as the other, both of them so glad to see Niwa safe and well… he might have been called a fool for hoping that they might have spared a thought for him. Still, he could hardly blame them. He had always been so cold and distant at school.

He saw Niwa's face light up as he saw his friend running flat out towards him. "Miss Riku!" He dashed towards her too, looking every inch the man in love. Satoshi watched the pair near one another, watching them stop. Riku was gasping from the sprint, but her eyes didn't leave Niwa's face.

"Miss Riku…" Niwa smiled gently.

Riku held up her hand to stop the flow of caring words that would soon follow. But she was smiling, too. "Now let ME say it!"

Niwa's eyebrows rose with worry and confusion. "What?

Riku swallowed, then whispered, "I found you…" Tears suddenly began to run down her face, and she tackled him in a huge hug. "Oh Niwa!"

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she sobbed with relief at finding him here… whole. Satoshi turned away to give them their privacy. He wouldn't intrude. Not now…

"Miss Riku…" Niwa sighed happily, hugging her tightly.

Then Satoshi glanced at Risa, and smirked at her as he found her looking at him. She quickly looked away with a blush, but her eyes darted back to him again.

_I'm not alone, _he realized with a start as he smiled at Risa – a genuine smile. _Not anymore. Thank you, Daisuke Niwa. You have done so much for me. How can I ever repay you?_

He should have known it was coming. He should have seen the man – half mad with pain and anger – emerge from the billowing smoke still being spewed out by fires in the wreckage of the Museum. He should have known that his father wouldn't have just given up and died when he was given the chance.

All Satoshi heard before the end came was his father's maniacal laughter.

"_Now, you will finally be destroyed – once and for all!"_

Satoshi whirled, the world seeming to go in slow motion. Yet it was not slow enough.

His father stood in the smoke, half of his face dripping with blood, his jacket gone, his shirt stained crimson. In his hands was a gun, pointed at the small group of friends as they celebrated their victory. Satoshi's eyes widened.

"_NO! Father! Watch out!" _He screamed at the others as he leaped at the grey-haired lunatic.

_**Crack.** _

Satoshi's eyes widened as he saw the bullet erupt from the barrel of the gun.

_**Crack.**_

It wasn't aimed at him – it missed him by several meters. Satoshi swerved away from his father, skidding to a halt.

_**Crack.**_

The barrel of the gun was smoking now, and Mr. Hiwatari's face split into a maddened grin. Satoshi knocked the gun from the man's hand and grabbed a pair of handcuffs from his pockets and fastened them about his father's wrists. The man was writhing in what seemed to be unholy joy.

"I've done – I've done it, I've done what Krad and Satoshi have never been able to do, so help me I've-"

"_NIWA!" _He heard Riku scream.

_Niwa? Daisuke? _

"_NO! Niwa!" _

Satoshi left the madman where he was – for all he cared, the man could die of blood loss – and ran for the group. One of them was on the ground, the others around him.

_Niwa! _He broke into a run. _Not now – not Niwa! He's too good a person to die like this! Not by a madman!_

Risa was screaming where she stood, clutching her head, her eyes riveted to the fallen form of her classmate. Satoshi spared her a glance, but there were far more pressing matters here. Was Niwa alive… or not?

Riku clung to her love, tears falling freely from her eyes as she sobbed.

"Niwa, Niwa, _Niwa_…" she whispered brokenly, brushing his wild red hair from his pale face over and over, telling him things in a soft voice that Satoshi could not hear. Nor did he want to… Niwa's face was almost grey, his lifeblood leaking onto the ground around him, the bullets ripping through his black leather clothing…

He reached out to the boy's neck, searching for a pulse. It fluttered weakly beneath his fingers. His fingers came away blood-smeared.

"He's still with us – quick, we have to stem the blood flow, or he'll bleed to death!" Satoshi grabbed the rags – all that remained of his old shirt – and began to wrap them around Niwa's injuries. Riku dried her tears, her fingers tracing blood down her cheeks, and began to help. Satoshi tightened the bandage about the boy's torso, knowing in his heart that it was not working. Niwa's life was slipping away, and there was nothing that could be done to save him.

Niwa's eyes fluttered open – the deep brown colour that almost seemed as red as his hair.

"Miss… Riku…" the boy's eyelids shut for an instant. When he opened his eyes again, they were unfocused and dazed. "I… hope… I kept you safe… no bullets… got you…?" he breathed, blood flecking his lips. Satoshi could see Riku's pain in her eyes.

"Niwa, _why_? You weren't even in the path, you got in front of me…" her voice broke and she touched his face. "Niwa, don't go, I've only just found you – all of you –"

"I'm… sorry… I got blood on… your clothes… Miss Riku…"

"Don't waste your energy on talking nonsense like that, you idiot! You… you… you…" she sobbed, tears coursing down her face. "Please don't go…"

"Niwa, she's right. You'll only lose the battle quicker if you keep talking!" Satoshi broke in harshly. This was not the way it was supposed to have been. Niwa had stopped him giving up on life, yet Niwa had thrown himself into a bullet's path to stop it from hurting the one he loved most…

"I'll…" he coughed, blood spattering on his lips again. Satoshi had to strain to hear his words. "I'll be okay, Miss Riku… Hiwa… Hiwatari… give me a few minutes… ok…?"

Satoshi watched Riku's heart break, watched her shake her head in denial at what she was hearing.

"Love you… sorry we couldn't… spend… Christmas…"

And Daisuke Niwa was gone. Just like that. And when Satoshi turned to kick his father's head in for doing this to him – to Riku – to the most kind, selfless boy the world had ever seen – Mr. Hiwatari had vanished into thin air.

"_NIWA!"

* * *

_

Satoshi jerked up with a gasp, sweat matting his blue hair to his forehead and his shirt sitting damp between his shoulder blades. His ran his fingers through his hair distractedly.

_That dream… again…? I suppose it makes sense. It is that day._

"Gah." He fell back onto the bed with a groan, his eyes still feeling sandy and tired. It was always the same with that dream. He'd relive Niwa's tragic death, remembering just how helpless he had been to save his first close friend. Niwa would die, always with the same words on his lips, always with a gentle smile that didn't fade as the life left him. Riku would always scream for Niwa to come back… then Satoshi would wake up, not rested at all.

Satoshi's eyes flickered over to the picture he kept beside his bed. The school photograph taken mere days before the incident at the Central Art Museum was alive with light and colour, the students smiling at the lens of the camera with no care in the world. Satoshi saw himself, standing up the back corner, and Niwa before he saw anybody else.

It had been his fault Niwa had died three days later. All of the chaos in everyone's lives had been all his fault… if only he had have been faster, if only he had know who his father's target had been.

"Well, Niwa," he said without thinking, staring up at the whitewashed ceiling of his bedroom. He didn't even stop to consider that he looked like a nutcase, talking to himself or to somebody no longer there.

"It's been ten years - ten years today. Ten years... since you died. Will you now let me live my life in peace?"

_But I will never forgive myself._


	2. Wave the Red Rag

**EDIT: **11/08/07

**Disclaimer: **_DNAngel_ is copyright material of Yukiru Sugisaki-Kadokawa.

**A/N: **Been a while since I remembered Redwing, I haven't been writing all that often lately. Most of my focus when I did was on my Dark Cloud novellisation _Atlamillia, _and even now I can't guarantee a fast update rate; school over fanfiction… my apologies for any inconvenience this may cause any readers.

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**Verse Two – Wave the Red Flag**

Satoshi Hiwatari never went back to sleep after the nightmare – it was much preferable to lie awake, thinking… thinking of anything _but _the tragic death of Daisuke Niwa. It was hard. His thoughts went in circles…

_Should have breakfast… if it weren't for your idiocy Niwa would also be having breakfast. _The bitter reprimands from his mind came unbidden – years of solitude and self-blame had honed it well. Niwa had been his friend – dare he say, _best friend? _Niwa had been his friend, yet Satoshi had been helpless to save him.

_Helpless. _

The word made him bitter. Made him weak. Made Niwa's fate… _real. _

Niwa had not deserved death, for all his association with a criminal like Dark. Satoshi had understood; Krad, though long gone, had never been his fault. Just the fault of the blood in those that were before him. The blood that had ultimately cost Niwa his life.

Perhaps if Satoshi's adoptive father had never chosen him for his Hikari blood, for his hidden power, he would not have developed an unholy obsession with Dark Mousy's demise. Perhaps Niwa would have lived and loved, perhaps he'd have had a family with Riku Harada by now…

Satoshi rested his pounding head in his hands, forcibly ripping his thoughts from the downward spiral.

_Not now. _

Not before work. He was the New Central Art Museum's most celebrated art-critic, every artist's nightmare. Even with the Hikari blood running through his veins ((_Krad_)), he had to have his wits about him. The media would walk all over him if he turned up to work a mess. Almost in a daze, Satoshi hauled his aching body to unsteady feet, catching himself on the bedside table and nearly knocking the lamp off before he found his steel-framed glasses. Contacts were too much of a bother, he told himself again as he slipped them over his nose…

He grabbed a spare shirt and trousers from the chair beside the bed, padded out into the tiny flat's hall, his mind intent on the promising warmth of a long shower.

Even at 5 AM, Satoshi could hear the roar of the morning traffic. A city of bloody insomniacs…

* * *

He wasn't sure how long he'd stood under the showerhead, just letting the dull roar of the water block out all thought, the steam block out sight and the heat to wash his pain away. Maybe half an hour, maybe closer to forty five minutes. Either way, he didn't exactly care. It was never long enough to block out the pain and anguish completely. 

_All my fault. Damnit Niwa, why did you have to die? My best friend… You were the one who told me to appreciate life. I cannot in good conscience do so. Not when it means taking a life that should have been yours…_

_Kitchen. Food. Ignore the pain._

He tossed a teabag in a mug and flicked the switch on the kettle, blue eyes intent on the brewing water.

Satoshi braced himself for yet another day of hell at the office as the shrill whistle from the kettle woke him from his daze.

* * *

"Satoshi Hiwatari." A man's amused broke the blue-haired art-critic's attention, splitting the developing migraine building between his eyes and rather unfortunately knocking a decorative vase from its stand by the door. Satoshi looked up in annoyance. He'd thought he'd asked his assistant Rhonda to tell all bloody-minded visitors that he was out. That woman might have to pay for her utter incompetence with her job… 

He slowly adjusted the position of his glasses and leaned back into his chair. Satoshi was the scourge of all artists anywhere. He could deal with a little interruption, surely… A man with short, dark hair stood in his doorway, a friendly smile plastered all over his face and waving stupidly. Satoshi scowled at his visitor; he was not in the mood for fools today.

It was only when the man, still grinning goofily, showed him his badge that Satoshi realized that this 'visitor' was from the police. Bored blue eyes snapped alight with a sudden burst of attention and interest.

"I suppose you have found me, then." Satoshi shrugged, giving the man a tight smile. "Now, what is it that you want…?" His voice was light, coldly conversational.

The policeman nodded to himself. "As aloof as ever, I suppose. I was warned about you by my partner…" He smiled, green eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "And I suppose your legendary status at the station hasn't really helped matters in humility."

Satoshi scowled, tossing the file he'd been analyzing to the paper-littered desk. "If you came here to talk about my old job, then I must show you the door." His teeth clenched in spite of himself. "I have a lot of work to do today, so if you don't mind –"

"Perhaps he would be a bit more interested in what we had to say if we told him that Higa Hiwatari has been spotted around this very location," a cold, feminine voice cut in savagely. Satoshi froze, staring at the policeman's barely concealed partner standing just within the doorway.

He had not seen Riku Harada since Daisuke Niwa's burial a few days after the Museum incident. She had left school and in the end completely vanished off the map, despite all efforts Satoshi had made to 'look after' Riku for Niwa. Her face had aged into a look of bitterness – her dark eyes had hardened into something harsh and stony. Her anger and resentment were tangible presences in the room, even from where Satoshi was seated at his desk.

Immediately, he felt the sting of regret. Had it not been for his slow reaction times, perhaps things would have turned out differently.

The policeman smiled at them both, seeming oblivious of the angry tension in his partner. "The name's Roy Kusanagi and I believe you've met my partner, Riku Harada. As for your father, she's dead on. Higa Hiwatari _has _been spotted around these parts, even in this very museum."

Satoshi was momentarily distracted by a shot of pain in his palm – blood trickled between his fingers as his fingernails dug into the skin painfully. His father, _here? _

"Higa Hiwatari is a wanted criminal and a fugitive and a _murderer._" Satoshi's voice was very low – almost a whisper. But it was savage. "Why the hell would that mad bastard come here again?"

Kusanagi rested his square jaw in his palm. "That's exactly what we are trying to figure out, Mr. Hiwatari. Have you seen anything, heard anything from him?"

Satoshi stared hard at Riku. She met his gaze squarely, unflinching.

_Riku sobbed into Risa's shoulder as the white coffin of Daisuke Niwa was lowered slowly into the frozen ground. Satoshi stood opposite them, watching numbly as the wreckage his father had cause manifest itself around him. Niwa's family stood in a tight group, his mother crying quietly in her husband's chest, Niwa's grandfather looking like he had lost the whole world. _

_A trio of black feathers – Satoshi knew they were not Dark's, but merely a symbol of who Daisuke had been – rested atop the coffin. _

_Above them, the heavens roared and thundered. Satoshi stared up into the clouds, and rain began to patter on the frozen ground, soaking into the sleet. And when Satoshi looked down, Riku's reddened eyes were fixed on him._

"No," he ground out. "That madman knows better than to dare step a foot near me. He'll wind up _dead."_

Kusanagi nodded, more serious for now. "Believe me, Mr. Hiwatari. We will do everything within our power to ensure that Higa Hiwatari is brought to justice for the crimes he has committed."

Satoshi let his eyes drop from Riku's. "Thank you. If there is anything I can do to help, do not hesitate to ask. That man… he deserves to die."

_Slowly, painfully… so he can feel the gears and wheels of time passing over his shattered body endlessly before his slow and painful demise. _If Satoshi got to him first, he would not hesitate this time. He would avenge Niwa, despite Riku's apparent dislike of him.

"Believe us, we will," Kusanagi grinned again. "Already we're closin' in on that murdering bastard, ready to strike –" A shrill beeping interrupted the man halfway through his tirade, and he frowned, looking down at his pager. Then he looked up, a forced grin replacing the genuine one. "Sorry, Mr. Hiwatari, but we've got an urgent call from downtown, so we'd better scramble. We'll keep you posted."

And with a wave, both Kusanagi and Riku Harada were gone. Satoshi was trembling, his breathing shaky and spots were dancing in front of his eyes. He felt something cool in his hands – stinging in the gouges – and hurled it into the wall. The empty coffee mug shattered on impact, fragments of ceramic clattering to the floor.

Satoshi's breath came hard.

"I'll kill you, you bastard," he whispered quietly, glaring at the shards.

Then the blue-haired art-critic shrugged, chuckling to himself. How the hell was he going to kill a man like Higa Hiwatari? And why the hell was the man – a man on the _run_ – stopping by and checking out artwork? It made no sense, but little did these days.

He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, a strangely good mood washing over him. There was really only one way to do it; and he knew just the place where he had to go. Red Bellator owed him a favour, after all. Striding out of his office while shrugging his coat over his shoulders, he ignored his assistant's pleas for him to stay and complete some paper work.

"Police business," he told her with a subtle smile, before exiting the New Central Art Museum.

* * *

He caught the next bus downtown, the light of the day already fading into a deep red sunset as he stepped out of the vehicle and into ankle-deep snow. He unconsciously drew the collar of his coat up to ward off the cold, quickly crossing the packed market street and dodging traffic. There was a lot of commotion at the police station nearby; Satoshi avoided the place like the plague, but it wasn't hard to see all the police cars pulling out at once and roaring away in a blur of flashing lights and screeching sirens. 

It was nearly Christmas, and it seemed like every man and his three kids were out looking for presents or just out to soak up something Satoshi had heard called, "the Christmas Spirit". Frankly, he didn't believe in the religious crap and he never had. The decorations all over the streets were a waste of time and taxpayer's money – and on top of that, the art-critic within him sneered, it was gaudy and overdone.

Satoshi pushed between a young couple as he hurried on his way, hastily checking his watch and deftly ignoring the angry shouts of those he upset. Red's shop closed soon, and he'd be rather disappointed if he couldn't obtain the item he desired.

The night market's stalls were just opening up, already doing roaring business despite the frigid cold of the night around them. Satoshi's breath escaped his lips as a mist as he jogged and wove his way through the ever-increasing crowd, barely able to see more than a foot in front of him. He was beginning to regret trying this 'shortcut' when a voice reached his ears.

Satoshi paled.

Oh no.

His body reacted before his brain even had time to formulate a proper plan of action, and he sidled into a stall, burying his face in a bouquet of flowers and every hair on his body feeling as if it were standing upright in paranoia.

"And y'know, Riku always gets the worst possible shifts – don't ask me why my sister doesn't complain, I don't know _how _her mind works these days –"

Satoshi, despite every fibre in his being begging him not to move, stole a glance at Risa Harada. She was tall – not as tall as himself or Riku, but certainly no short girl. She was older, her body had matured, her hair was long, dark and thick – it gleamed in the fading red light. He felt an ache resonate deep within his heart as Risa passed right by him, seeming too absorbed in conversation with her companion to notice him.

Risa Harada, the very personification of a life he knew he wanted, but couldn't bear to allow himself to take.

_God damn it, Risa Harada. You make it hard to continue avenging Niwa…_

He pulled his face from the bouquet, frowning at the ruined roses and offering the unhappy seller a couple of dollars for the trouble he'd caused. Now that major disaster number fifty six of today had been averted, he continued on and pushed his way through the packed market place.

You couldn't have measured his relief as, finally, _Red's Armoury _came into view. A dingy little shop – just by looking at it, you could tell the owner neither wanted nor needed customers; just her collection of weaponry. Satoshi shrugged to himself. Frankly, he didn't give a damn what Red Bellator wanted or needed.

The metallic handle was icy as he opened the door, and as he stepped through, he noticed that the shop wasn't much better. Freezing cold and draughty to boot, there was little lighting and even less in terms of customer service. The shop was completely empty, the walls lined with swords and guns and all types of vicious looking weaponry. He knew he liked this shop for a reason…

Satoshi cleared his throat loudly, wondering where the hell Red could be – usually she and Lee were around somewhere. He narrowed his eyes, adjusted his glasses and gave a thoughtful sigh.

"Red Bellator, if you do not come out from wherever you are hiding and serve me right now, I will haul your ass in." He smirked as there was the sound of metal crashing to the ground from out the back. Threats always worked a charm, no matter who you dealt with.

Red stuck her head from out back, her golden eyes narrowing in anger. "Oh. It's you."

Satoshi gave her a mocking smile. "Yes, me with a wad of cash to buy you your next month's rent."

The woman emerged fully, pulling off grease-stained leather gloves and leaning over the counter. "You think you're funny, don't you? So… what do you want _now?_"

"That isn't a way I'd talk to customers."

"Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's all it ever is with guys." Red sighed, massaging her temples. Her shoulder-length red hair was caught up in a loose plait. "What is it this time? Word on your dear daddy?"

Satoshi smirked. "Actually…"

Ever the direct woman, she snorted, "So you want a li'l something to knock his lights out with, correct?"

"Correct. What have you got for me?" Satoshi decided it was better to leave Red to do what she did best – get him the best damn weapon she could lay her hands on.

Red looked thoughtful. "Lee's developed a new gun, just last month with _phenomenal _firepower – but guns aren't your style anymore. Hikaris, what can I say? We Bellators are much less fussy… How 'bout swords, then? Just got the latest in from Okinawa, a masamune katana with a lethal edge and a surprisingly light weight. Interested?" Red fluttered her lashes at him in the pretence of seducing him to her will. He knew she wasn't serious. She had Lee, and she was notoriously against true flirting.

Satoshi pretended to think about it, just to keep her on edge, but inside his mind snapped at the opportunity. Ever since the Wedge of Time, swords had been a preference of his…

"Deal." He presented Red with a wad of cash, the greasy paper passing quickly from his hands to hers', and Red grabbed a long, lightweight katana from the wall, passing it to him.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Hiwatari. As always." She tucked the cash in her bra, smirking back at him as he drew the finely curved blade from its sheathe. The flawless metal gleamed in the darkness, and he could see his eye reflected as if looking in a mirror. The edge was wickedly sharp, the man found out when he pressed his finger to the blade.

_After all, _he thought quietly as the sword's comforting weight shifted in his palm, _Wave the red rag in front of a bull, and you get hurt, Mr. Hiwatari._


End file.
